


Redeeming The Devil

by EllanaSan



Category: Lucifer (TV)
Genre: Angst, F/M, Lucifer Redemption, Lucifer doesn't like it when people try to hurt his friends, devil reveal, maze and chloe friendship, maze and lucifer friendship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-19
Updated: 2016-11-19
Packaged: 2018-08-31 21:54:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,211
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8595277
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EllanaSan/pseuds/EllanaSan
Summary: In retrospect, it happens so quickly, all Chloe can do is stand there and stare. Or the one in which Charlotte comes after Chloe, which doesn't sit well at all with Lucifer...





	

**Author's Note:**

> This takes place in the near future, either the last episode or another… Anyway, I really wanted to see something where Charlotte goes for Chloe and every possible cat gets out of the bag, starting with a really angry devil ;)

It starts like a normal evening.

Chloe’s making dinner in the kitchen, wriggling the frying pan from time to time so the eggs don’t burn, sipping from a glass of wine with her free hand. Maze is perched on a stool at the counter, cackling a little as she gives her a recap of her last bounty hunt – and despite herself Chloe laughs too because as much as the policewoman in her frowns at what she hears, she cannot deny the tale is funny.

The low rumble of the TV in the next room coupled with the wine makes her feel relaxed in a way she hasn’t been in a long time. Trixie watching cartoons in the living-room, chatting with Maze while making dinner…

It is starting to strangely feel like home.

In retrospect, it happens so quickly, all Chloe can do is stand there and stare.

The front door burst open – _burst_ in a show of wood splinters and dust.

Trixie screams in fright and comes running with a tearful _“Mommy!”_.

Chloe meets her halfway just as Maze jumps from her stool and stands protectively in front of them. She pushes her daughter behind her, her fingers twitching for her gun. She reaches for the holster she usually keeps at the small of her back, and comes up empty – because she’s home and she’s _never_ armed at home. The gun is on the other side of the apartment, completely useless.

It all happens _so fast_.

Seconds, at most.

When her eyes finally fall on the door, she expects a small group, a war gun – what else could do that sort of damages? – _something_ … But in the dust floating in mid-air stands only a woman in an expensive red blouse and suit pants, wearing heels and no weapon. The sight is so unexpected, so startling in its unthreatening way, that Chloe can only blink, not quite sure what is going on.

It’s only when the woman steps inside – _struts_   inside, rather – that she recognizes her. _Charlotte Richards_. Her contacts with her have been limited since her case. She _has_ seen her around _Lux_ though… Enough to guess Lucifer probably added her to his long list of one-night-stands.   

“You are going to _pay_ for this.” Maze spits.

Chloe’s attention switches from the woman to her roommate, blindly reaching behind her to place a hand on her daughter’s head. Trixie is crying, clinging to the back of her legs.

Maze is… _terrifying…_ in a way she’s never really been before. A chill runs down Chloe’s spine as she takes in her suddenly commanding presence. She isn’t easily intimidated but she’s happy not to be on Maze’s bad side for once.

“Hey, whatever’s going on between you two, take it outside.” Chloe snaps. She can deal with the destroyed door later. The emergency right now is to make sure Trixie remains _safe_. She doesn’t dare send her to her room, doesn’t dare _risk it_.

Maze’s stance is far too serious and there is a cold glint in Charlotte’s eyes, something ancient and deep that gives her the _creeps_. 

A part of her always dreaded she would come to regret offering to share a home with Maze. The woman is _trouble_. And it would have been alright if it had been only _Chloe_ but _Trixie ?_

“Outside would be a good place for you to be, Mazikeen.” Charlotte hums.

Maze lets out a cold chuckle. “Do you _seriously_ think I will let you harm them?”

Chloe’s whole body tenses as the words sink in. _Harm them_. _Them_.

Charlotte’s eyes wander to the two of them and any doubt as to whom Maze is talking about leaves her. It is not _Maze,_ Charlotte came here for.  

But _why_?

“What’s going on?” she asks, licking her lips, trying to think _fast_ about how to get how of this, how to get _her daughter_ out of this. “ _Maze_ , what does she want?”

“You, dead.” Maze answers simply, without even a glance over her shoulder.

Trixie lets out a muffled sob and tightens her hold on her legs.

“It’s okay, monkey.” she whispers. “Everything will be okay…”

“Ah, self disillusion…” Charlotte coos. “Humans can be so _cute_.”

“So what?” Maze scoffs. “All your other ploys failed so you decided you were going to do the job yourself? Good luck with that. I’m going to kick your ass, chain you up and _then_ we will have some fun. _For old time’s sakes_.” There’s a low growl in her voice. “And when I’m done, I’ll turn you over to _him_. And you know what he will do to you… Lucifer doesn’t like it when people messes with his stuff.”

 _Lucifer_.

Chloe should have known.

“I don’t think you will find it that easy.” Charlotte chuckles, tilting her head to the side.

There is a shift in the air then, a _tension_ … In the living-room the TV turns to static, the lights flicker…

 _All the clichés of a horror movie_ , Chloe muses as she takes a step back, forcing Trixie to do the same, in an instinctive, almost primitive, need to get _away_ from the woman standing in front of her. Charlotte’s smile is twisted and the air around her almost seems to _sizzle_ with electricity.

“Impossible…” Maze breathes out and there is a touch of _fear_ in her voice.

“Very possible.” Charlotte counters. “My powers just needed a little time to come back…” She opens and closes her right fist a few times, almost considering. “They’re not _all_ back yet but I have enough to take care of you. So I suggest doing it the easy way, Mazikeen, step aside and let me kill the Detective so Lucifer can get himself together and we can all go home. Don’t _you_ want to go home? Once Lucifer is back in Heaven, _where he belongs_ , Hell will need a new master… You could be it. Queen of Hell… How does that sound?”

“Crazy.” Chloe answers for her, eyes wide. “You’re all _crazy_.” Clearly the woman has been disturbed by her ordeal and Lucifer’s rambling has _somehow_ resonated in her. And now she _believes_ … “Look, Mrs Richards, I don’t know what…”

“Silence.” Charlotte snaps with a disgusted look. “I don’t know what my son sees in you. Never mind that you’re _human_ but you’re not even exceptionally good looking. My host is hotter.”

And isn’t that even more _twisted_.

 _My son_.

She remembers Lucifer going on and on about his mother escaping Hell around the time of Charlotte’s case, about how she would wreck havoc on Earth, how she needed to be found and brought back to hell…

She remembers making a conscious choice _not_ to prove him wrong or right because she wasn’t ready to know one way or another…

The doubts, the creeping ridiculous doubts, that maybe Lucifer has been _honest_ all along, mainly because Lucifer never lies to her, and he _is_ in fact the devil, rail their ugly head.

The odd ability to bring people to confess their deepest desires, the charisma, the dangerous aura that shines around him at times, the people left insane in his wake, the unrestrained wrath, the sinful _temptation_ of him…

The part of her that has been _believing_ him from the start…

“Maze?” she asks, knowing it won’t help because whatever Lucifer believes, Maze does too.

Her roommate lets out an annoyed sigh. “We’ve been telling you all along. Lucifer’s the devil, I’m a demon and that piece of shit is Mama Mornigstar, Goddess of all Creation or whatever. Try to wait before having your meltdown, Linda just recovered, I can’t deal with another brain fried friend right now.”

She wants to reject it, dismiss it again for the impossible thing it is…

But there is _something_ to Charlotte Richards in that moment, something in her eyes, something in the _power_ that _radiates_ from her, that she can’t deny.

There is something to Maze’s stance too. A wariness that does nothing to conceal her ninja skills. She has charisma too and right now she stands tall, every inch a warrior straight out of some fantasy book… There’s a touch of madness in her eyes, an old dark thirst for violence… Maybe it’s a trick of the light but, for a second, Chloe can _swear_ her face is all burned skin and delicate sinews, her eyes so white they almost look dead. _A demon’s_ face. Her _true_ face.

 _Lucifer is the devil_.

Acceptance hits her hard, not unlike the car a few weeks ago.

It feels like a car crash.

_Lucifer is the devil. Lucifer… Lucifer…_

“She dies tonight.” Charlotte insists, her tone soft, _tempting_. “Maze. We don’t belong here, you _know_ this. She’s keeping him back… You serve him. You were _born_ to serve and protect him. You _know_ this is the right thing to do. I know you hate me but you love him more. For him. Let me do this.”

Chloe holds her breath. If that woman _is_ a goddess – the wife of _God,_ God exists, God has a _wife_ , God is _divorced…_ there are too many information, it is too big and her head spins – then even if she manages to reach for her gun, what good will it do? Her best hope is _Maze_. Her best hope…

She wants to beg for Trixie to be allowed outside of the apartment, to be left out of whatever this is – she doesn’t _understand_ what this is, it goes beyond her, Heaven and Hell and Lucifer and her… – but one look at Charlotte tells her her wish won’t be granted. She doesn’t want to step away from her daughter, she will shield her with her body if it’s the last thing she does…   

“She’s my friend.” Maze states, almost quietly. “You won’t touch her or her child.”

“Then, you will die.” Charlotte shrugs.

Then she _attacks_.

Chloe moves out of the way, throws herself over Trixie and curls protectively around her in the corner. She cannot look away from the fight even as she whispers reassurances into her daughter’s hair, trying to find a way to help Maze and coming up with none…

The fight that takes place in front of her eyes is almost too much to be conceived. Punches are given that would kill someone else, furniture is destroyed… It goes too fast, it is…

 _Lucifer_ , she keeps begging in the safety of her mind, her thoughts endlessly circling back to him. It is a plea and a desperate call all rolled into one because her heart is hammering in her chest and she _needs_ her partner.

That’s why cops have partners in the first place. To have one’s back, to protect them, to have someone to trust when the situation is _hopeless_ …

And maybe it goes _beyond_ that…

Maybe…

 _Lucifer, please, Lucifer_ …, she repeats again and again as it becomes clear that Maze won’t win this. Her roommate’s face is bloodied and she’s losing ground… When Charlotte manages to wrap her hand around her throat and lifts her up…

_“Let her go.”_

For a moment, she thinks the familiar voice echoes only in her head, that she imagines it in an attempt at coping…

Charlotte freezes, however, and when Chloe looks at the destroyed doorframe, there he stands, all faked casualness. She can tell he’s angry – _wrathful_ – his eyes are cold and his jaw is clenched, the hands buried deep in his pockets, she is ready to bet, are curled into fists.

“I won’t ask twice, Mother.” Lucifer hisses, his dark eyes briefly darting to where she is huddling in the corner. His gaze _inspects_ her, takes her in from her spooked look to the child she is clutching to her chest. When he spots Trixie, his fury seems to increase.

And suddenly, Chloe has a solution, an _option_.

Because the only thing that matters to her, _the only thing_ , is to get Trixie to safety.

As Charlotte reluctantly lets go of Maze’s throat to smooth the creases on her blouse, Chloe draws back and cups her daughter’s cheeks, vaguely aware of the staring contest going on behind her back. “Monkey, I need you to do exactly as I say. Can you do that?” Trixie is still crying, panicked beyond words, and Chloe has to swallow back a wave of anger of her own because whoever upsets her child like that only deserves one thing: _pain_ – goddess or not. “Trixie.” Her daughter nods. “I need you to to go to Lucifer. He will protect you.”

 _Hopefully better than I can_ , she doesn’t add.

She feels more than she sees Lucifer’s eyes snap back to her, wide and astonished by that show of trust.

“No need to send your offspring, Detective.” he protests. “I will protect you _both_.”

There is a warning growl in his voice that sends shiver down her spine even though she knows the anger isn’t directed at her. Maze is backing away from Charlotte, not so subtly taking her stance back between the goddess and the two of them.

“Go.” Chloe insists, pushing her daughter a little.

Trixie hesitates and then runs as if she’s chased by the devil instead of rushing towards him – the irony of that is almost enough for Chloe to burst out laughing. She thinks it might be _shock_ or maybe the spooked look that flashes on Lucifer’s face when her daughter latches herself at his leg, burying her face in the pressed fabric of his pants as she sobs. She knows he hates it when Trixie tries to hug him or interact with him – although there is unmistakable _fondness_ there – but the hint of fright quickly turns into cold determination.

Chloe does not have time to rethink her decision.

Lucifer places his hand on her child’s head and she knows, deep in her guts, that the fury of Hell itself will unleash on anyone stupid enough to ever lift a hand against her.

“Is that show really necessary?” Charlotte sighs. “Lucifer…”

“ _Silence_.”

His voice is a roar and everyone in the room flinches, Chloe included.

His chests lifts and falls quickly as if the wrath is almost more than he can contain, his eyes turn red and he strains his neck as if he has difficulty keeping himself _grounded_.

She wonders if it’s hard for him… If who he really is underneath – _an angel, a fallen angel_ and here comes the dizziness again because the whole thing is _crazy_ – can _fit_ in the handsome package of the man he looks like… If he feels like his body is going to burst at the seams with how big and powerful and _ancient_ he is…

“What did you think you were doing, Mother?” he asks and he sounds a bit calmer.

It’s treacherous, Chloe thinks, because he is far from being relaxed and each of Trixie’s sobs seems to infuriate him even more.

Charlotte pouts like a child caught with a hand in the cookie jar. “What a mother _should_. I’m trying to bring you back to _reason_ , destroying what is holding you back so you can _thrive_. My son… Let’s go _home_.”

There is a genuine yearning in the goddess’ voice and Chloe cannot help but study Lucifer, a bit too aware that what the woman wants to _destroy_ is _her_. Lucifer does not glance back at her, though. He keeps his eyes on his… _mother_ , his hand distractedly petting Trixie’s hair. Chloe isn’t sure he’s aware of what he is doing but her daughter finally stops crying.

“I told you. I _am_ home.” he argues. “ _This_ is my home.” 

“No.” Charlotte counters. “Your family…”

“Do _not_ lecture me on _family_.” he cuts her off, his voice dropping again to a dangerous growl.

“Lucifer.” the woman insists. “I know you don’t feel that way now. But once your little pet is dead…”

“Hey!” Chloe exclaims, offended. “I’m no one’s pet.”

“Indeed, _not_.” Lucifer smirks.

Maze snorts. “Other way around, really…”

“You are _nothing_.” Charlotte scowls. “You’re a _draft_. Here and gone in a moment. _We_ are _eternal_.”

“You would be well inspired to leave now, Mother.” Lucifer’s voice is a warning in itself. “Threatening the Detective didn’t end well for Uriel. Do _not_ think I won’t kill again to protect her.”

 _Who’s Uriel_?, Chloe wants to ask and _kill to protect her?_

She slowly stands up from her crouch, helping herself with the wall.

She feels strangely disconnected from what is taking place. It’s as if a whole war has been going on behind her back, a war she’s been a part of despite her knowledge, and she knows _nothing_ about it.

“You killed your brother because he wanted to bring me back to Hell not because of her.” Charlotte retorts, a growl of her own in her voice. “But it’s alright… It’s alright… I forgive you. It’s your father’s fault. If he…”

“I wouldn’t have killed him for _you_ alone.” he interrupts. “I would have found another way.”

Charlotte tenses and her expression grows colder. “You’ll feel differently once you don’t have ties here anymore. I _know_ you, son.”

“If you try to hurt her, I _will_ stop you.” Lucifer warns, reaching inside his jacket.

Chloe hopes for a gun or maybe _a miracle_ – after all, why not? – but it’s a knife that Lucifer pulls out. And not _any_ knife but the missing murder weapon from a few weeks ago. _She should have know_. 

“You won’t.” Charlotte scoffs. “You won’t _dare_.”

“Maze, get them out.” he orders.

“Get _Trixie_ out.” Chloe hears herself say. “I’m staying.”

“Detective…” Lucifer hisses. “Now is not the time for…”

“I’m _staying_.” she cuts him off with a glare. “We’re partners.”

“If you stay, she can kill him.” Maze says.

 _You make me vulnerable_ , he said once. His insistence that he is immortal, the bullets and injuries he escapes unless she is in the vicinity… His now gone obsession to figure out _what she i_ s as if she were a puzzle for him to solve…

But _why_?

Why would _she_ be his kryptonite?

“She can kill me anyway if she gets her hands on Azrael’s Blade. But she _won’t_.” Lucifer counters before she can answer. She’s gaping a little, she thinks, stunned by… _everything_. His eyes search hers and she slowly closes her mouth. He seems to find what he is looking for anyway. “It’s alright, Maze.”

“No, it’s not.” her roommate scorns. “I’m staying too. The two of us…”

“Someone needs to take the spawn to safety and make sure nothing happens to it.” he insists, before she can finish. “Get behind me, Detective.”

So Maze could move from her protective stand in front of her, Chloe figures, and get Trixie. She backs away slowly, keeping close to the wall, until she is well behind Lucifer. Once his body is between her and Charlotte only does Maze go for Trixie – which proves to be difficult because her daughter won’t let go of Lucifer.

“Come on, now.” Lucifer says, almost joyfully. “Don’t look so gloom. Go have a walk with Maze. She’ll get you some toys.”

“Do as Lucifer say, Monkey.” Chloe begs, watching Charlotte, ready to throw herself in the middle if she makes a grab at Trixie.

When he finally manages to free himself from her daughter and she’s safely enclosed in Maze’s arms, he meets his… _demon’s_ eyes, an+ unreadable look on his face. “Get Amenadiel. If we’re not back…”

“Nothing will happen to that kid on my watch.” Maze dismisses, her face closing. “And I’ll make sure _she_ gets her due.” A flicker of hesitation flashes in her eyes. “Lucifer…”

“Do as I command.” It’s a rebuke, but a fond one.

“I do not serve you anymore.” Maze retorts.

The smile on Lucifer’s lips is playful, maybe because they both know how untrue that statement is.

It kills Chloe to watch Maze take her daughter away when Trixie is crying for her but she trusts her roommate to keep her _safe_. _She trusts a demon to keep her safe_ , a voice corrects at the back of her mind but it’s more than she can comprehend at that moment.

She’s surprised Charlotte went so long without making an attempt at either attacking or running but the woman looks undecided now, _hurt_.

“You would harm your mother for that human?” Charlotte asks once the three of them are left alone.

“Well, _she_ never let me down, _did she_?” Lucifer scorns.

“Fine, then.” the woman sighs. “Keep your pet.”

“Oh, if only it was _that_ simple, Mother.” he huffs. “Am I supposed to trust you won’t try to hurt her again? As much as it pains me to say, I think Father was right… You do not belong here.”

“Of course, I do not belong _here_.” Charlotte snaps. “That’s _the_ _whole_ _point_. Neither do _you_.” She shakes her head. “Remember who you _are,_ Lucifer.”

“That’s the thing.” he snorts bitterly, a sad smile on his lips. “I _do_ know who I am.” The blade of the knife he is still holding flares up, white flames lick the metal, and Chloe can only step back, alarmed by the way they are both staring at it. Lucifer looks sadly contemplative, Charlotte looks wary. “Do you think Father always knew it would end up this way? Who am I kidding, _of course_ , he did… Always so intent on making me the _monster_ …”

“Lucifer.” Charlotte breathes out and, for the first time, Chloe hears fear in her voice. “You do _not_ have to do this. I will go. I will leave her alone.”

“For how long?” It sounds almost like a joke. “I know you, Mother. You won’t rest until you get what you want. And I won’t give you what you want. I would sooner return to Hell than to Heaven. I can’t let you destroy _everything_. You’ve taken enough already.”

He glances at her then, cautious, with that particular tilt of the head that means he expects to get rejected or hurt, and it makes Chloe’s stomach churn. He’s scared she will run away, she figures, scared she won’t want to be his friend, his _partner_ , his… She hasn’t had time to process anything that has just happened or even what is happening _right_ _now_ … But she knows one thing, he is still _Lucifer._

And he wants her to stop him from making a mistake he will forever regret.

“Can you stop her without killing her?” she asks.

“Not while guaranteeing your safety in the future. Or your offspring’s.” he denies. “It’s alright, Detective. What’s a little matricide? It’s all in the devil’s work.”

“I swear I won’t touch her.” Charlotte insists. “Don’t do this, Lucifer. You will hate yourself. You know you will. And I _won’t_ fight you. I _won’t_ hurt you. It will be an _execution_. You’re not your father’s henchman anymore… You’re not…”

 _“Stop telling me what I am or not!_ ” he roars.

Chloe flinches and the disgust on his face when he sees it… She licks her lips and takes a step toward him, hand outstretched. “She’s right. It’s not who you are. Don’t kill her.”

“You don’t know what you’re asking for.” he replies harshly. “She’s not trustworthy. She…”

“Lucifer, I _love_ you.” Charlotte interrupts. “If killing that human means losing you, I won’t touch her. I will find another way to convince you.”

He bristles, clearly annoyed by his mother’s inability to _understand_ what he’s been claiming all along. _He wants to stay._

It’s more difficult than she would have liked to come close to him. He _irradiates_ vengeful wrath and looking at him is like looking straight at the blinding sun at noon. It feels like a prey running to her natural predator. She forces herself to go on and the nearer he gets, the easier it is. He _softens_ with her closeness and she marvels, for a second, at how gently _the devil_ looks at her.

“Let her go.” she requests, coiling her fingers around his wrist.

She can feel the heat of the strange flames that lick the blade on her skin. The moment she touches him, they flare even brighter and he takes a sharp intake of breath. For a moment, he’s bathed in white light and he looks so _beautiful_ … She’s reminded of the wings and how _pure_ they looked… But _this_? If she’s had any doubt left, they vanish. This light, his face… It’s _divine_.  Almost _too much_ to be beholden.

He stares at her with an awe she doesn’t deserve, because _look at him_ … He’s a…. _godly being._ And she’s…

 _Crying_.

Tears rolling silently down her cheeks as she drinks in the peace and love that is that light. It’s beautiful beyond any sort of comprehension. It’s…

“Chloe.” he breathes out, his free hand reaching for her cheek, catching the tears with his fingertips.

It’s the first time she can remember him using her name and that makes her blink, shake out the feeling of complete serenity that goes with the light.

She lets go of his wrist.

The light slowly recedes and then disappears and they’re left staring at each other, speechless and a bit out of breath.

“What is your Father playing at?” Charlotte whispers.

“You won’t harm her or any of her loved ones.” Lucifer states slowly, still staring at her. “You won’t go near her again. I won’t show mercy twice.”

“After _this_?” his mother huffs and it’s almost a laugh. “ _Of course_ , I won’t harm her. Whatever she is… It suits my purpose.” She struts away and briefly pauses on the destroyed threshold. “Call me if she finds a way to grow your wings back.”

Then she’s gone and it’s only then that Chloe realizes how _massive_ her presence has been, how _easier_ it is to _breathe_ now that she’s not there anymore.

It’s also the moment her legs give in.

She doesn’t fall though. “Easy, there, Detective.” He guides her toward the kitchen, picks up an upturned stool and sits her down, making sure she will stand upright, before walking around the counter to turn the stove off. He glances at the charred eggs, frowns and drops the pan in the sink before opening the tap.

 _The devil_ is putting her frying pan to soak.

It starts as a chuckle in the back of her throat but before long she is doubled in two, laughing so hard her right side hurts and tears spill from her eyes.

“And you were doing _so_ well…” he sighs.

“You’re… the… devil….” she stutters between two hiccups. “ _The_ devil…”

“Which usually makes people cower in fear not laugh but, _by all means,_ laugh yourself into insanity.” he pouts.  

If anything, it makes her laugh _harder_. It takes long minutes for her to calm down enough to put together a coherent thought. As coherent as she can when everything she hasn’t quite believed to be real just turned out to be true.

“The knife…” She licks her lips, the memory of that light enough to send a thrill through her… “Can I see it?”

“Better not.” he winces. “It’s not safe for humans.”

 _Humans_.

The immensity of what he is hits her again but this time she doesn’t want to laugh.

It’s _too much_.

“Trixie…” she says and he immediately nods.

“Maze will have taken her to _Lux_. I’ll drive you.” he offers. He glances around the half destroyed apartment and makes a face. “And I will pay for the repairs.”

She accepts the ride and argues about him not being responsible for the rest but he won’t take no for an answer and she’s too tired to fight him on it. The vast majority of the drive is spent in silence.

He steals glances at her but she keeps her own eyes on the flashing buildings.

 _It’s too much_ , she keeps thinking.

She’s not sure she can handle it.

Given the way he grows more and more somber, she guesses he knows exactly what she’s thinking.

When they step off the elevator and to his apartment, it’s to the sight of Maze pacing and Amenadiel propped against the bar, arms crossed.

 _An_ _angel_.

She almost misses the relief on Maze’s face, too focused on that realization.

“Is the bitch dead?” her roommate asks, studying them both in turn, probably looking for injuries.

“Where’s Trixie?” she counters because that’s all that matters to her. Their fight about Heaven and Hell and Earth… It’s too big for her.

“In the guestroom.” Maze frowns. “She fell asleep.” She goes straight there, briefly squeezing… _the demon’s_ shoulder on her way. “What happened?” she hears her ask behind her.

“Did you kill Mom, Luci?” Amenadiel adds, his voice cold and rough all at once and Chloe is _glad_ she stopped him because she doesn’t think he would have been able to bear losing a brother at the same time as his mother.

Another brother.

The one he hasn’t killed to protect her.

She hurries to the guestroom, leaving them to argue without her.

She hears things as she crawls in bed with Trixie, nudges her awake, hugs her tight and promises her everything is alright. She hears shouting and screaming, Maze, mainly, who would have liked to see Charlotte _dead,_ Lucifer whose arguments she doesn’t _get_ – something about prayers and _grace_ and Azrael’s Blade and how his mother wouldn’t threaten her anymore because she brings him that step closer to Heaven – and Amenadiel who seems torn between the two.

She hears them argue but doesn’t really listen, focused on her daughter. Trixie isn’t as upset as she feared, certainly less than earlier, which has a lot to do with Maze laying the truth bare for her daughter. Demons, Devil, Angels… Trixie accepted it all a lot more easily than her, it seems. The invasion of their home scared her but the knowledge that Maze _and_ Lucifer – and apparently _Amenadiel_ – pledged to keep her safe from monsters – or scary women – is enough to reassure and comfort her.

Chloe thinks she will still have a word with Linda about it… Maybe… Since _she knows_ … She can help make sure Trixie is _really_ okay.

She will have to explain it to Dan.

How is she going to explain this to Dan?

They can’t go back to their apartment and she doesn’t really know what to do next so she lets Trixie fall back asleep in her arms and she stares at the ceiling, barely noticing when silence falls back on the apartment. She _could_ get her daughter to Dan’s and ask to be allowed to crash on his couch. It’s the sensible thing to do.

She keeps waiting for the _urge_ to make sure her daughter is safe to overtake her but it never comes. It takes her a while to realize it’s because she knows she already is.

Not because they’re in _the devil’s_ guestroom and she guesses there are very few safer places in the world but because they’re in _Lucifer’s_ guestroom and he won’t let anything happen to them.

Her mind flashes back to what happened, images circling on a loop. The authority in his voice, the wrath trapped inside him, the red glow of his eyes, the vastness of _him_ … And then the light… That peaceful warm light… Almost a _beacon_.

She hears the first notes of music and she slowly gets out of bed after checking one last time that Trixie is asleep.

She’s not sure it’s the right night for _Stairway to Heaven_ but he always had a strange sense of irony about that sort of things.

He stops when he spots her on the corridor’s threshold and then reaches for the glass of alcohol set on the piano.

She’s reminded of another night when she showed up to comfort him and he was playing another song about knocking on Heaven’s door… She remembers spending hours playing silly tunes because it’s the only thing she can do with a piano, sharing booze and stories… _Bonding_.

He seems surprised when she closes the distance to the piano and sits next to him.

They don’t talk.

She’s not sure what she wants to say anyway and there are too many things to ask. His shoulders are slouched as if he’s waiting for the final blow.

She snatches his glass from his hand and takes a sip because she needs it, needs the liquid courage to address the issue.

He resumes his playing and she listens until he finishes the song.

“You’re _really_ …” she hesitates, letting the sentence trail off.

“The monster even monsters are scared about?” he snorts with self-deprecation masquerading as pride. “I’m afraid so.”

She frowns at him. “You’re a _not_ a monster. I know you. You’re not evil.”

He studies her with rapt attention, a mix of hope and dread, and he smirks. “Ah, but _you_ do seem to bring out the angel in me, Detective…”

She would have dismissed that as a cheap attempt at flirting before. Now… Now she takes it at face value. “Why?”

“That’s the mystery, isn’t it?” he snorts, absent-mindedly playing a slow melancholic melody. “I thought you were a trick to get me back to Hell at first. Now I’m not so sure. And it doesn’t really matter anymore anyway.”

“Maybe it _should_.” she argues. “I make you vulnerable. That’s what you said. When I’m near you, you can get _hurt_ , you could die.”

“I did.” he admits after a small hesitation.

“Malcolm.” It’s obvious in retrospect. There was so much blood that night… She _saw_ him take that bullet. She saw him… “How…”

“A deal with dear old Dad.” he shrugs.

He explains the rest, fills in the blanks about a deal to save her life and she can only stare as he tells her nonchalantly that he would have sacrificed his freedom for her, as if it doesn’t _matter_. He explains his mother too. And laid bare like that, the whole story makes more sense. If she leaves the supernatural out of it, it’s nothing she hasn’t seen or heard about a million times. It’s when he starts talking about what went down with Uriel that she holds her breath.

The pain on his face…

She’s not sure how she feels about the whole _killing_ , although it clearly happened in self defense and it isn’t like Uriel was a human, it’s _way_ out of her jurisdiction. But the guilt, _the remorse_ he feels… _That_ , she can’t ignore.

 _Everything he has done for her…_ There’s always been _feelings_. Friendship if nothing else, more if she’s honest with herself – something she might not quite have been ready for – and seeing him _in pain_? It makes her want to _soothe_. 

She covers his hand, putting a stop to the depressing melody he has been playing.

He stares at it, his jaw clenched, but tentatively turns his around so their palms are pressed against each other. She entwines their fingers without a second thought.

“See? I’m a monster after all.” he states slowly.

“What I saw earlier…” she denies. “It wasn’t a monster.”

“Oh, that…” He closes his eyes and tilts his head to the side, as if he can still _feel_ the light. His tone is one of longing. “That was _grace_. It’s been a very long time since I last felt it… Before the Fall…”

She can hear the capital he gives that word simply at the way he utters it.

She can’t imagine what it was like, can barely _conceive_ that it was real.

“Does that mean your… _father_ ’s forgiven you?” she asks and she’s almost scared of the answer. Because if he is forgiven, doesn’t that mean he can go back to Heaven? He said he wishes to stay but…

Life without him would be so… _dull._

He actually considers it but eventually shakes his head. “I don’t know. I don’t think so. It came from within.” He flashes her a small smile. “The Devil is what He made me but at the core I am still an angel, I suppose. For some reason, you seem to wake up parts of me that have long remained dormant. What you saw earlier belonged to the Lightbringer. I haven’t bring any light anywhere in millennia.”

“It was beautiful.” she whispers without meaning to, the mere memory of the light enough to appease any current turmoil she could have experienced about his age. “Your face…”

“It wasn’t _me,_ Detective, it was an _echo_.” He squeezes her hand once and moves as if to free his fingers from hers. She doesn’t let him. She knows how he deflects. As it is, he sighs but doesn’t fight her grip. “They called me _Morningstar_ because I was the brightest, the most beautiful, the _favorite_ … Surely you can see _why_.” He winks at her but his humor is short lived. “I haven’t been Samael in a long time, it wasn’t _my_ face. I am not light any longer. I am rot and decay. I am _Lucifer_.”

He says the name almost as a curse.

The request passes her lips without conscious thought. “Show me.” His reluctance is obvious. Once again he tries to escape her grip but she holds him back. “Lucifer. _Show_ _me_.”

They’ve gone too far now.

“It didn’t agree so well with the dear doctor.” he warns. “I told you, there is nothing _beautiful_ about me anymore. The sight of me…”

“It drives people mad.” she finishes.

“Some.” he nods. “You have been taking this whole thing _extremely_ well so far.”

“Show me.” she demands. “I’m not scared of you.”

“Perhaps you’re already mad, then.” he jokes but his gaze is almost pleading. “Are you _sure_ you can handle it, Detective? I would rather not reduce you to a stuttering idiot.”

“I won’t go mad.” she promises. “I trust you with my life. With _my_ _daughter’s_ life. No matter what you look like. It’s _you_. Whatever you look like, it will _still_ be _you_.”

“Yes…” he hums, ignoring that last part. “I wondered about that. Strange guardian angel you chose for her… But I shall do my best.”

She has no doubt he will. She’s seen it in his eyes back there, in her apartment. It was written on his every feature, on the tense line of his shoulders…

“How did you even know we were in trouble?” she asks because it hasn’t occurred to her until now that it is a strange coincidence for him to _just_ have invited himself over for dinner on the very night his mother comes to murder her.

His gaze softens. “Why, I heard your _prayer_ , of course. Very insistent, you were. Almost gave me a headache.”

“I didn’t…” she stammers. “I wasn’t _praying_ … I didn’t mean to _pray_ , at least.”

“It _felt_ like a prayer. I’m not really used to it anymore, I must admit.” he snorts. “I told you… You call to the angel in me. _Quite_ literally, it seems.” His smirks twitches and fades. “You were terrified and desperate… I could _feel_ it… It made me… _furious_.” He takes a deep breath and she hears all the residual anger in it. She _feels_ it in the way he strains his neck to the side. “There isn’t a lot I care about but… _Losing you_ … That’s not something I’m ready for, I’m afraid.”

“Good thing your mother seems to have changed her mind about killing me, then.” she teases, her voice betraying her. The rush of adrenaline came down and she’s beyond shock now, she thinks, but…

“She won’t harm you. I won’t allow it.” he growls and it’s here again, that hint of raw _power_.

“I know.” she says and she means it.  She lets go of his hand to brush her fingertips against his cheek. “Show me.”

He looks down and when he looks up again, the familiar face is gone. She can’t help her small gasp. She’s been _prepared_ for something like this but it turns out to go beyond what her imagination could come up with.

“Hell burns everything.” he jokes, his voice light and amused.

His skin is burned indeed, _scarred_ , an angry red that makes it look almost like leather. His eyes are red too, the same dangerous amber glow as before…

She reaches out and he recoils a little before accepting her touch.

“How are you doing, Detective?” he asks, a bit wary. “No urge to jump from the balcony, I hope?”

“I’m fine.” she says, distracted, brushing her fingers against his cheek, learning those unfamiliar features. It felt like scarred tissues.

“So you are.” he grins, clearly pleased about it.

“Did it hurt?” It’s a stupid question, she knows before she’s even done asking. Those scars…

“It wasn’t pleasant.” he deflects. “It wasn’t worse than getting my wings ripped off, though.” She can’t hide the anger that flashes on her face, her fingers clench a little on his cheek. He immediately looks alarmed. “Are you alright? Let me…”

“Don’t.” It’s not his face that upsets her. It’s what _he’s been through_. The discrepancy between this skull covered by thin burned skin and scars and the pure beauty from earlier… And yet… It’s there… In his eyes… In his _gaze_ … That light… It comes from _within…_ This urge to _soothe_ his pain flares up again and she leans in. “You’re still beautiful.”

She doesn’t expect him to draw back. He doesn’t go _far_ but he draws back enough to escape her lips.

“Is that a show of madness?” he frowns. “That’s _not_ the reaction _this form_ usually triggers…”

She rolls her eyes and slides her hand from his cheek to his nape.

“Lucifer.” she sighs. “Shut up.”

This time when she leans in, he doesn’t try to escape.

The kiss is everything kissing the devil should be. Hot, dirty and perfect.

She feels the scarred flesh melt away to unblemished skin under her fingers but she doesn’t think much of it, supposing he simply reverted to his familiar appearance. She’s too busy kissing him to see or care. It’s only when he gasps, her name an awed whisper on his lips that she realizes they are bathed in light…

“Chloe…” He tilts his head to the side, looking both uncertain and overwhelmed, his features chiseled in bright light. His eyes aren’t red anymore, they are two beams of infinite galaxies. She almost cannot bear to _look_ at them, is scared she will be _burned_ by their immensity. “What are you doing to me?”

“Does it hurt?” she worries. She drops her hands, gives him space, but the light doesn’t fade, not until he closes his eyes and  makes an obvious effort. “Lucifer?”

He opens his eyes and it’s gone. He’s the same old Lucifer she has learned to know.

“You taste like redemption.” he chuckles, a bit disbelieving. He leans in and she lets him kiss her, a bit scared that it will end up in a light show again. Either he learned how to control it or it was a one time thing because there is no light this time. Lucifer deepens the kiss and she closes her eyes, forgetting to worry. “Positively sinful.” he hums against her mouth. “Absolutely _delicious_. My sweet Detective…”

_Redeeming the devil…_

There are worse fates, she supposes.


End file.
